Everlasting Pledge
by Aretaic
Summary: It was their reunion, and Cornelia wanted to dance. What happens? Read to find out.


**Everlasting Pledge**

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The sun was setting. Different shades of pinks, violets, and oranges were filling the night sky like a magnificent abstract masterpiece drawn with effort by an artist. In the already dimming light, shadows were prominent, bending and stretching into different forms, adding emotions and expressions to the silence of the twilight. The quarter moon was there, up and above, illuminating in the darkness of the evening, as if glittering from the diffracted light of the sun. The scenery was beautiful, and it was; but there was something that made the setting particularly ugly. There was war outside a few miles away; destroying the serenity in this small world. But in this minute space, it almost seemed that everything was perfect. _Very perfect_.

In the small room, Guilford sat on a stool, facing his delicate princess. She had been resting for a while; and in those undisturbed minutes, he kept his eyes resting on his lady. The woman with a face of a doll and the fair skin of the mannequin, her wounds were almost unnoticeable. Though just dressed in a simple dress of a patient, she had the same look: radiant as always. He had never seen her for almost one year, but in his mind she was still that same, magnificent goddess he'd vowed all his loyalty to. And as she had talked to him a few hours ago, he'd known immediately that he had fallen in love with the same woman over and over again for the thousandth time. And, in that same conversation, he had witnessed her as a vulnerable creature _again_.

Laying there silently for many hours, he knew she would utter a word in a few minutes. He knew he'd hear her melodious voice, again, and he was expecting it to come. And it did. He squeezed the hand that he had been holding gently, tracing circular motions on the back of her hand.

"I…," her voice came as a strong force then faltered. In this room, it had been a while since they had spoken to each other.

"Princess, are you hungry?" he asked her, letting go of her soft hand and moving towards the table nearest to him. Even in those times when they were not entirely casual, he hadn't lost his courtesy. "Or thirsty?"

Cornelia turned her head to him and, almost sitting up, she answered, "No, I'm not hungry or thirsty. I…" Her voice died inside her lungs. She was at a loss for words. She reached for his hand as he came back to his seat.

Guilford smiled a little as he clasped her hand. He found himself holding her hand frequently now, and he hoped that the moment their palms would touch, that moment would last forever. His hair loose, he hunched down, as if willing to let her touch the texture of his face. The instant her fingers reached the side of his face, she unhurriedly sat up, resting her back on the headboard while helping herself with the least possible strength she could afford. Now, as she had observed, in this quiet place, she seemed weak.

"Your Highness, you should not overexert yourself."

Guilford's voice breaks into her mind. Cornelia fell silent for a moment, shifting her head a little forward in her sitting position, looking at her knight softly, almost powerlessly. Darkness was settling in, and Guilford's comment brought back memories. He had always been like this: so concerned, caring, even overprotective like her. She knew, as well, that it just showed her that he cared much. Cornelia, for a few seconds, did not utter a single word. She did not move. The color of her blouse she wore almost matched the color of her hair, and her knight had to take a few deep breaths just to look at her. Her head turned to the other side, looking towards the windows as her partially tied hair swung, realizing that it was already dark.

"It's already evening."

"Yes, Milady."

She turned silent again, as well as him. Unknown to both of them, they were in a middle of a silent contemplation about everything. She squeezed his hand, and faced him.

"Let's dance," she spoke shortly, looking at the window again, avoiding his gaze.

It took Guilford a few moments of silence to comprehend what she had just told him. He squeezed her hand again. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but your wounds are still not completely healed," he told her. "I don't want you to exert too much effort. You need to rest, to restore you to health. If you want, we can dance after you are completely healed."

Cornelia showed no reaction to this. She just breathed slowly, evenly, and looked at the scenery outside. She felt weak sitting and lying on this bed, but so, she felt peaceful. This was one of the feelings she had wanted to experience ever since; which was almost impossible during the war. But she wanted to do something; something that would provide her with more peace than merely resting on this bed. She did not know why she had this strong urge, but still, she really wanted to dance. Her lips opened slightly, as if she was muttering something, as if she wants to say something important… or less. She blinked, still not turning her head. She averted her gaze down and studied the immaculate hue of the sheets.

"I want to dance," she said again, her deep voice sweeping down through Guilford's bone marrow. They both knew that the Second Princess was not one who really _loved_ dancing, but still…

"But, Princess, if you do, your wounds will become more severe than it is now. I do not want that to happen," gently, he carried out his opinion to her.

"If that happens, you will be there to help me, right?" she asked. This time, she turned her head to stare at him. She almost blushed at the sight of him kissing her fingertips. She moved closer, and gazed at the sight of her knight doing it. "So, I have nothing to worry about at all." She fell silent for a second and she moved, trying to get off from the bed and stand up, pulling her hand away from Guilford.

Slightly startled, Guilford straightened himself up and looked at the princess. "Princess Cornelia? Wh-What—"

She moved with great effort, she could not control her legs with all her strength, supporting herself with the bed. Guilford approached her and helped her get up. "Princess, please…" He winded an arm around her body, afraid to let go that she might fall down and break into small pieces. Looking through his sunglasses, his free hand touched her chin and he talked softly, "Princess, please lay back down and rest. I just want what is best for you. If you make use of your energy right now, there'd be nothing left when we dance soon." He looked down at her and smiled.

In Cornelia's eyes, his smile looked awkward on him. He rarely smiled like this during the past years they had been together, and one might as well conclude that he doesn't smile at all. Despite this, Cornelia found herself at a loss of the remaining strength inside her again. She rested her hands on his chest, and her head on his shoulder. It had been like this, too, when he comforted her after the death of her beloved sister, Euphemia.

"I missed you," she whispered, her voice fragile. "I missed you, Guilford."

Guilford smiled. From the tears he shed earlier, he felt alright now that he finally expressed himself and let go of his sadness. So, instead of crying again, he smiled. "I did, as well, Your Highness." He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a gentle hug. He rested his head on top of hers.

Cornelia closed her eyes, trying to block the unshed tears from falling down, biting her lip. "That's why I want to dance with my knight. It had been a while."

Her voice sounded vulnerable. The stern sound that Guilford was accustomed to hearing was gone, and he wondered if it was the injury or something else that made her act like this. He ran his hands up and down her back, trying to comfort her. In all the times they had been together, he had figured her much; about what her reactions and facial expressions meant, what her voice had been hiding from the person she's talking to, and even the true meaning of the words she did not say. He all knew those things. And he knew well enough that he loved her; though one thing he wasn't sure about: what her feelings for him were, if he was merely a knight and a confidante, or more.

Standing there, Cornelia found it hard to maintain her balance with her legs, so she leaned against him. "I missed the way you asked me to dance during balls, even your serious expressions," she murmured. "I miss the feel of your gloved hands clasping mine as we dance. I miss the scent of your neck as I bury my face on your shoulder." Despite herself, she had never imagined herself to tell him all this. She had already tried to forget all these things before, but it came back all at once.

"I miss those things, too," Guilford added. "I missed you, Princess." He wanted to add more, but he couldn't; he could not think up of any words to add. "I missed your orders, your voice, your hair, and everything about you. I missed you so much, Princess." He stroked her hair, thinking back all those times he had just mentioned. "I even promised you to come back alive, and I did. I missed you so much, Milady."

Cornelia smiled as she recalled the order she had given him. "I missed your obedience, too. That was an order I had given you a thousand times, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," he answered, "and I would never break it."

Cornelia breathed calmly; her nose smelled the nostalgic scent that she craved for during her disappearance. "Dance with me," she said again after a few minutes of silence and breathing together, holding each other. "I want you to dance with me."

"But your wounds…"

"I'm fine," she remarked. "I can handle it. I'm going to make it an order th—"

"Alright," Guilford cut her, "let's dance. But I won't let you put forth too much exertion."

"Yes…"

Guilford pulled away from Cornelia, letting go of her warmth pushing against him. She buckled slightly, and he knew she had difficulties in balancing herself. Despite this, he held her right hand, kneeling down and bowing his head to kiss the smooth skin on the back of her hand. He closed his eyes for a split second then opened them again, looking up to see her face, then down to say something important: some words that she said she missed.

"Your Highness," he said gently, as he used to, "would you give me the honor of dancing with you?"

Cornelia smiled; the tears she had been holding back had welled up. "Yes, my knight."

Guilford stood up. He held her hand tightly and brought it to his lips once more for a few seconds. At that moment, Cornelia finally can balance her feet. Her legs had found strength enough for her to carry herself. She tucked a group of strands that made her incapable of seeing him fully to her back, and she blinked back water in her eyes. She almost forgot the wonderful scenery she had just seen earlier, all those things were forgotten. She also did not mind of the injury she had that made her incompetent to support her weight fully, or the bandages that were wrapped around her wrist and arm. All she could manage to put attention to was the man in front of her. Her knight, Gilbert G.P. Guilford.

Guilford moved closer and winded one arm around her, the other clasping her hand, all in accord to a formal dancing position in balls. He started a few steps, and Cornelia followed. In those few moments of tranquility, both noticed something was missing. A certain thing that would make the dance incomplete without it. Noticing this and wanting to fix the problem, Guilford—slowly—started to hum.

"What's that?" Cornelia queried him, looking at his eyes straight.

"I-It's the music, Princess," Guilford replied, embarrassed, blushing. "The dance would be incomplete without the music."

Cornelia smiled; though she wanted to laugh, smiling was all she could muster. "It's not in tune." Hearing her comment, all Guilford could do was blush. "But still, I like it," she added. The blush darkened after she said it. For the following minutes, Guilford continued his humming, according to Princess Cornelia's request. And to his surprise, his princess joined in. Upon realizing the not-in-tune factor of their music, both of them laughed.

Quiet instances passed. Not speaking anything, Cornelia was now resting her head on Guilford's shoulder again, her own arms around him as his were around her as well. She recollected the times when they were like this, back when they were still young, when they first met, when it was her debut, when she made him her knight, when there were balls, when it was her birthday, when it was Valentine's Day, or even during random times when they were alone, this little routine mattered in her life. She thought, maybe she could not even bear to live without it. She missed her knight, didn't she? So this must mean if she missed him that much, she would be going to miss those things too. Just thinking about it made her smile nostalgically.

"Thank you," she told her.

Guilford kissed her forehead and asked, "For what, Princess?"

"For everything," she answered. "For being my knight, for protecting me, for taking care of me, for being so obedient to me, for being loyal to me, for coming back alive…"—she continued with all the things Guilford had done for her, even the things with the most little worth—"…and also for dancing with me this evening."

Guilford buried his fingers in her hair and he pushed his chin against his cheek tenderly. "You're welcome, Your Highness," he stated. He had been doing those things for her good, and he knew that it was for the best. He will be there for her when she needs him, for always, until she wishes otherwise. Aside from it was his duty, he had been doing those things for a more sensible reason: that was his purpose in life. Everything was done, and all that was left was her, Cornelia Li Britannia.

"Thank you," she whispered again, trying to emphasize it all. "I have never thanked you for that like this. I did not show gratitude at all." Her fingers touched his black hair, and she smoothed it, combing it with her long fingers.

"It's all right, Milady," he said. "I already received plenty of things from you. Only you did not know it. If you did, you must have not thanked me now, I already had a lot of it."

She just smiled, and for once, there was a lump that formed in her throat. Her eyes welled with tears again, and she knew she could not hold it for the third time. She found it hard to breathe, and her heartbeat became faster. She tightened her arms around him, and that was the signal that her tears had trickled down her face. Guilford sensed it, and he turned her face with his fingers, allowing him to see the way her tears fell down. He wiped it with his thumb, then, after wiping it, he softly pressed his lips against her cheek. Instead from stopping, though, Cornelia cried more.

Guilford parted his lips away from her cheek, embracing her tightly, taking her in his arms, and letting her face bury itself on his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she cried, not knowing why she did, but one by one—gradually—he understood why she had been crying. He felt her tremble against him, and also the wetness on the spot where she cried. It had been a while—he knew—since she cried last, and tonight, she would release all her sadness, loss, and all those things that made her feel miserable. Though it might not sound good, Guilford knew well that it was the best, so that she could finally let go everything that tied her to her past.

After a few minutes that seemed to be forever, Cornelia, at last, brought her sobs to an end. It was enough; she had freed all her contained emotions, emotions that surrounded the impassable barrier of her heart. Finally, she had expressed herself, with one person comforting her. "I'm sorry…" she muttered as she wiped her tears with her bare hands. "I-I never meant to cr-cry…"

"No, Your Highness, you _should_ cry when you feel like crying," Guilford said. "It is a way to express yourself and letting your sadness go." He rubbed her back again, continuing to embrace her.

Cornelia just nodded and turned her head for her lips to touch the skin on his neck. She breathed in a way that her sobs hadn't fully subsided, as she closed her eyes and tried to cherish what had just happened. "Guilford, I want to ask you a favor," she spoke, her voice different from crying, it sounded rough.

"What is it, Princess?" he inquired, preparing himself to what she would order him.

"I want to…," she began slowly, trying to proportionate everything. Mustering all the courage left within her, she said the words she wanted to say.

Guilford listened, paying attention to what she had just said. For him, that would be a promise—that he would keep that pledge forever. So, as a form of agreement, he moved closer, and pressed his lips on hers softly, indirectly telling her that he concurs. And she understood, and tenderly, she responded to the kiss.


End file.
